


Sometimes bad things happen.

by billie758657



Series: Butternut  (female reader) [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddles, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, Hair stroking, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Its 1am let me sleep, Kissing, Light Smut, Minor Character Death, Nudity, Panic Attacks, Sequel, Sexual Tension, Smut, Swearing, Tags Are Hard, To surprise gift, canon typical gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 23:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billie758657/pseuds/billie758657
Summary: [SEQUEL TO SURPRISE GIFT]  When things go bad on a run you just want to be left alone. Thankfully Negan won't let you.





	Sometimes bad things happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy. Here we go again. 
> 
> The long awaited (apparently) sequel to surprise gift is here! Im totally counting it as an early christmas present to you all. After struggling with this bad boy for months I had a burst of inspiration and basically wrote the last 4k worth in 24 hours. The magic of commenting on fics is real kids do it and do it often. Writers thrive on the stuff trust me. 
> 
> It might not be the epic smut fest that some of you were hoping for but I'm asking you to trust me. I have a plan. Come Yell at me on tumblr my url is neganisking.
> 
> Enjoy! Love each other and stay safe x

“Open the fucking gate!”

The horn of the truck blares out into the air as the Saviors on guard duty rush to pull back the metal chain link fence. Your ears are still ringing with the screams of the man slumped on the floor in front of you that had now, to your horror, fallen into faint whimpers. He wasn’t going to last much longer.

The sweat was pouring from your brow, your breath coming out in harsh rags. Using what energy you had left, you clamp your hands down on the bloodied stump, using your own bodyweight to try and stem the flow of blood. God there was so much blood.

You hear Travis holler out the window. His tone sharp and irritated. “Get Carson to haul ass down here proto! Jimmy got bit.”

Your stomach lurches as the man stops whimpering, his eyes rolling back into his head. Cussing loudly you grab his shoulders and shake him hard, anything to get him to come to. It doesn’t work.

Your voice touches on hysteria as you call through the metal sheet to the front cab. “Travis I can’t keep him awake! Jim! Jim c’mon buddy wake up! We’re here now. C’mon!”

It wasn’t fair. He had gone through all that shit just to die when you finally get him back? No. He was strong. He would make it. You just had to keep him going long enough for Carson to get him.

Alderman’s voice answers, sounding just as panicked as yours does. “James motherfucking Bates if you don’t wake up right now I’ll get Negan to put your ass on the fence so help me-“

Travis interrupts his empty threat. “-Fucking drive up to the door already he’s running out of time.”

“I’m going! Move out of the fucking way!” A few more blasts of the horn later and the truck lurches forward before finally grinding to a halt. You were home.

Your body ached in relief, trembling from the exertion of the last few long hours. “Jim c’mon we made it. Don’t go giving up on me now.”

The slamming of the truck door and the muffled voices tell you that the two men are making their way around to the back with some of the others. Good. You were about to fall on your ass from exhaustion.

“Carson’s on his way.”

“He’d better fucking hustle or it’ll be too late. Someone call Negan. He’ll want to know about this shit show.”

Your body sags at the mention of Negan’s name. He’ll set things right. It would all be okay. You adjust your position slightly muscles begging for a break from your crouched stance beside him. It was almost over.

A breathy groan erupts from the man. Still pushing down on his wound you flick your eyes to his face to see if he had managed to regain consciousness only to see his eyes taking on a haunting yellow glaze, drowning out the blue that had once been there. He was gone. “Aw shit!”

As you spur yourself into action, Jim’s lifeless body lurches forward, snarling as it spots it’s first meal. It stumbles, missing you as you reel back out of the way and clumsily shuffles towards you with a sickening snarl.

You could end it. It wouldn’t take much more effort to take your knife and halt the remnants of your friend forever. It would almost be a kindness really, no one wanted to end up like that after all. The reality of it, however, was that that kindness wasn’t an option – especially on the doorstep of the sanctuary. There weren’t many things that were wasted in the new order and the wall outside the factory needed new corpses to replace those that had become rotten beyond recognition. Jim still had a purpose. Even in death he belonged to Negan.

Rapidly crossing the suddenly far too small space of the truck bed, you hammer desperately against the door. “He’s turned! Open the fucking door!”

In an instant the bolt holding the doors locked slides open and daylight streams into the space. Throwing yourself out of the truck, you quickly slam the doors shut behind you as your two companions can only look on in shock horror.

You slide the bolt across just in time as the walker throws himself against the metal, the force of the impact making your slick hands slip against the door leaving a trail of crimson in their wake.

Alderman balls his fists into his hair, turning from the truck with gritted teeth. “Oh fuck. Fucking fuck. No Jim! C’mon man!”

Travis swears loudly, kicking the truck door making the walker inside ram the opening again. You glare at your friend, blood still pounding in your ears as you struggle to hold the door closed. The world around you began to tilt as you became dizzy. When would today end? “A little help?”

Weary from exhaustion himself, Travis takes his place beside you, leaning against the truck door while snapping at the few saviours who were just standing there watching everything go down. “Could you assholes make yourself useful and take it to the fence before anyone else gets fucking bit? We’re fucking done today.”

As the saviours come to life, Travis takes you over to the side and sits you down on one of the large stone barriers. Gulping in lungfuls of air that isn’t suffocated with the stench of blood and death, you try to relax your body. Sparing Travis a look you wonder if he’s alright. He looks worried for some reason. Before you have the chance to ask he beats you to it. “You okay?”

Were you? You were still alive obviously so that was a plus. Better than Jim at least. You felt like you were about to throw up whatever was left in your stomach but that wasn’t exactly surprising. Now that the immediate danger was gone and there was no one to try to save, things were catching up to you rather quickly.

Carson’s arrival saves you from having to answer. He runs through the door, his large medical bag in hand, looking rightfully flustered as his eyes lock onto you. “Who was bitten?”

Travis sighs, easing to his feet with a little difficulty. “It’s too late doc. It was a long shot anyway, we cut his arm off but he bled out in the truck on the way back.”

The doctor frowned, looking genuinely distraught. He was a good man, or at least he was from what you had seen of him. “Is anyone else hurt?”

Sparing a glance behind him to where you were sitting and another to where Alderman was pacing on his own in an empty corner of the lot, he rubbed the back of his neck. You cast your eyes to the floor, the blood on your skin and covering your clothes doing nothing to help your nausea. “Yeah, nothing life threatening though I just think-“

You don’t find out what Travis thinks because in that moment the main fire door opens with such force that it hits the outside wall with a resounding bang. Heavy footsteps approached you as the familiar voice that belonged to them demanded attention. “What in the ever loving fuck happened?”

“Negan.” At the sound of Travis’ voice you squint up at the men in front of you from your place on the stone bench, blinking slowly. Travis had nervously fixed his posture to stand upright and the doctor still had that same look of concern etched into his features.

Unsatisfied with his answer, Negan narrowed his eyes, sparing a beat to frown in your direction. “I repeat. What in the ever loving fuck happened?”

Travis adopted a professional tone, speaking as quickly and matter-of-factly as possible. It was the best way to deal with Negan when he was pissed. “Pretty sure it was the Wolves. We were checking out sector 7 again and we must have set off one of their old traps. It was bad. Jimmy got bit. We cut off his arm and tried to get him back to the doc but he didn’t make it.”

You supress a shudder, remembering the way the rotters poured in from every exit, the way your stomach had dropped through the floor, how hopeless you felt. It was a miracle you made it out alive. Jim of course, hadn’t been so lucky.

Negan growled. “I thought we fucking cleared those shit eating psychos out last month.”

Travis sighed. He shrugged as he tried to work it out for himself. “As far as I can tell we did sir. It was just an active trap. None of them came to check it after the alarm went off. It took us long enough to get out, they would have been there.

“Motherfuckers.” The venom in Negan’s voice is palatable and for good reason. The vigilante group had picked off a serious amount of saviours until you had all went out together to hunt them all down. Even now after they were long gone they were still managing to cause shit. You couldn’t help but share Negan’s sentiment.

For a long moment, Negan looks about ready to take Lucile to some poor asshole’s melon out of sheer frustration. No one says anything, you and Travis being too exhausted to offer any kind of support and Carson, who most likely didn’t have a clue, opting for the safety of silence instead. A couple of long moments later, Negan runs a gloved hand down his face with a sigh. “Anyone else hurt?”

Travis shrugs, having given up on hiding just how tired he was. “Nothing serious.”

Negan nods to himself. “Good. Check ‘em all out anyway Carson. Y’all look like shit.”

You hear the dismissal in his tone and you imagine him strutting away back to whatever he had been doing. It had been a few weeks since your encounter with him in the privacy of your room and true to his word he hadn’t held it over you. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned it at all. You had mixed feelings on the matter really, though right now you were in no state to examine them.

You wonder how long it would take to get to bed. You supposed you would need to clean yourself up before Carson could check you over. And the man was thorough so it would probably take a while. Shit. Maybe you could just nap for a bit first.

Suddenly you become aware of someone snapping their fingers in front of your face. Furrowing your brow you blink at the hand, the realisation slowly dawning on you that it belongs to Negan. Didn’t he leave?

You squint at the man who seems to have been saying something if his perplexed expression is anything to go by. “What?”

Negan huffs, no trace of amusement in his unreadable face. “I said are you fucking hurt?”

You frown slightly, trying to catalogue anything that could be considered and injury. Mostly you were just tired. “I – I don’t think so.”

“So this shit isn’t your blood?” He clarifies, gesturing to the sticky mess that was beginning to harden pretty much everywhere on your body making you want to itch.

“No.” You grumble flippantly, completely exhausted. Didn’t not being hurt give that away already? Negan was a smart guy he could figure it out.

Negan purses his lips together, a stern look on his face. You wonder what his problem is, just wanting to be alone. Apparently Negan doesn’t get the hint as in one swooping motion, he takes you by the crook of your arm and hoists you to your feet, leaving no room for argument. “Right. C’mon.”

It’s mostly out of surprise that you let yourself be pulled along the corridors and up the stairwells. His grip was firm but it wouldn’t be difficult to get out of it, you just didn’t have enough fight in you to make a fuss. Besides, Negan usually got what he wanted anyway. The sooner he did what he wanted the sooner you could sleep.

Along the way people dropped to their knees as they caught sight of the tall man. Seeing it from his perspective made it seem even more bizarre. Like he was some kind of god, parting the ocean or some shit like that.

It’s then that you realise where he’s leading you to. Slowing your pace you pull gently at the hand wrapped around your wrist. You didn’t want to go up to his room, you just wanted to sleep. “Negan-“

Negan looks at you with an almost pained expression. “Don’t fight me on this doll face. Just don’t.”

When the only reply he gets is a withering sigh, Negan continues onward, not stopping even after he leads you through the doorway to his room going instead straight to the bathroom.

As bathrooms go, the room was hardly the dream that they used to sell you in commercials or in fancy catalogues with payment plans and polished marble surfaces. That being said, the fact that the man had a working bathroom at all was a luxury that was almost unheard of in this day and age. The small, clean room had probably once only been equipped with a toilet and a sink but now it had a mismatched bath with an overhead shower too, the yellow duck patterned shower curtain drawing your amusement as it catches your eye.

Flipping the lid of the toilet seat down he finally lets go of your wrist, your skin feeling noticeably colder as his hand leaves you. He inclines his head to the porcelain. “Take a seat.”

Not needing to be told twice you sit down, all too aware that you’re most likely getting blood on everything but you can’t bring yourself to care. It wasn’t like Negan was particularly squeamish anyway.

Running a basin full of water Negan shrugs his jacket off, hanging it on the hook on the back of the door. It crosses your mind that maybe you ought to do something, say something even but you have no idea what. Instead you just watch him move about in the space, your face slack and weary as he dampens a cloth with the water.

Turning to you, Negan picks your hand up from your lap and begins to wipe your arm down. He frowns at the offending limb in concentration, something clearly working it’s way through his mind. “Is what Travis said true? Is that what happened?”

You blink slowly, trying to remember exactly what Travis had said. Negan wrings the cloth out in the basin and has almost completely cleaned your arm by the time you reply. His answer had been vague, but unfortunately it was all true. “Yeah.”

Negan grunts in reply, he doesn’t say anything else which is more than okay with you. Methodically, he moves onto your other arm, rinsing the cloth out again and again until it’s clean. At some point in the process, his movements begin to soothe your frazzled nerves, it would feel almost comforting if it wasn’t for how overwhelmed you were.

Once your arms are done he pauses, taking in your face with a grimace. Rude. You didn’t look that bad. Besides if he was so offended by your face then why had he been trying so hard to get into your pants all this time?

He rinses out the cloth once again before squatting down in front of you. Wetting his lips, Negan presses the material to your face and you hiss at the uncomfortable feeling, the cold water irritating you much more than before. Negan pulls the corner of his mouth down in the closest thing you’ve ever seen to an apology from the man and for a moment your irritable mood subsides. He is trying to help after all.

That is until he opens his mouth. “Think you can manage a shower?”

Your eyes roll as you huff in exasperation. You had just been through hell and lived to tell the tale, a mere shower in comparison was a walk in the park. Unable to keep the annoyance from your voice you grumble, too wired to give a damn. “I think I’m capable of taking a fucking shower Negan. Honestly you don’t need to make such a fuss.”

Negan presses his lips into a thin line, his antagonised persona darkening the already strange atmosphere in the small room. “Yeah well seeing as you rolled up here covered in fucking blood and shaking so fucking bad it looked like you were going to go join old Jimbo on the motherfucking fence I’ve decided that I’m more than entitled to give a shit if you can make it through a good damn shower without keeling over. Thank you very fucking much.”

You’re taken aback by his biting tone, not used to your words having that affect on the man. Usually he bounced off your bickering and griping with a gleeful smile and a sarcastic remark. You hadn’t really given much thought to how you must have looked to other people. It explained why Travis had looked to worried too. The last thing you wanted to do was to get into an argument so in the hope it would diffuse the situation you decide to back down. “Sorry.”

Negan shakes his head, exasperated. “Don’t be sorry just quit busting my god damn balls. You’re in shock. You can’t even fucking tell that you’ve got a fucking gash on the side of your god damn face.”

“What?” You squawk indignantly, not entirely sure he isn’t fucking with you as you quickly stand up and turn to the mirror on the wall. Ignoring how the sudden movement makes your head spin you squint to examine your apparent injury.

Most of your face is clean now, with the odd bit of blood in the creases of your nose and your eyebrows. What catches most of your attention however is the long graze around your left temple that was still steadily oozing a small amount of blood. It looked worse than it probably was, and you were almost certain it wasn’t serious but the fact that you hadn’t even realised made your chest tighten. You couldn’t even remember banging your head but then given how chaotic it had all been it was hardly surprising. What else had you missed? No wonder Negan was concerned.

Noting the way your face falls and your breathing picks up, Negan moves to stand behind you so you can see his face in the mirror. He gently rests his hand on your shoulder his voice a little strained but much more comforting. “Exactly my fucking point. Take a deep breath for me now. Nice and slow.”

Taking in a shaky breath you fill your lungs with air before turning around to face the man behind you and leaning back against the counter, not wanting to look at your face anymore. Now that you were aware of your injury it suddenly comes to life, making your head throb painfully.

Negan slips one hand around your waist this time to steady you, watching you closely in concern. “Easy does it butternut.”

For a few long moment you just focus on breathing. Your eyes close and you try to relax your body, letting Negan’s close proximity make you feel safer than you had all day – not that that was difficult. Relaxing doesn’t exactly work, you’re too tired, too sore and your mind just won’t stop reeling with white noise. You suppose at least you’re not alone.

When you open your eyes you meet Negan’s soft gaze. You quirk your lip in acknowledgement trying to reassure him somehow. He doesn’t wait for you to speak gesturing instead to your stained clothes. “Can I help you out of these? No funny business I swear.”

You huff a laugh, finding it amusing that Negan was so bold and so ridiculous to try and get your clothes off. Your initial thought was that no, you were capable of dealing with the rest yourself and that you were in no mood to allow yourself to be naked in front of him. The more you thought about it though the more you realised that it wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t already seen. You doubted that he would try anything while you were in a state anyway. Between that and how heavy your limbs feel a little help didn’t seem like such a bad idea but you didn’t want to make it that easy for him.

With a sly quirk of your eyebrow you ask him. “Scouts honour?”

He blinks, not expecting you to be making a joke in this particular situation and scrunches his face in amusement before falling into right into your trap. “Scouts honour.”

Narrowing your eyes in mock scrutiny, you wag a finger in his direction, recalling a previous conversation. “I thought we already established that you weren’t a boy scout.”

Apparently your joke falls flat although you still think it's pretty funny. Negan blinks a couple of times before pinching the bridge of his nose as though he’s the one with a hole in the side of his head. “Fucking – honestly butternut. You’re killing me here. Would you just me help you already?”

Rolling your eyes you concede to him and gesture for him to do his thing. With a nod Negan’s hand leaves your side and his fingers find the hem of your tank top. To your surprise, Negan systematically strips you of your clothes without a single remark and even without the faintest trace of a suggestive taunt on his face. He’s all business, not even letting his eyes linger as he unclips your bra and your bare skin meets the cool air. You can’t help but feel out of sorts with how uncharacteristic Negan is acting. If you’re honest you’re not sure how to handle him when he isn't being crude.

It’s after you toe off your boots and you unbutton your jeans that you decide to break the silence. As Negan stoops down, fingers hooking into the belt loops to ease the fabric down your legs you tease him lightly. “This wasn’t exactly how I envisioned you getting my clothes off again.”

It does the trick. With a low chuckle Negan grins, looking up from his crouched position at your feet with a gleam in his eyes that starts a certain kind of churning in your stomach. This you were familiar with. It must show somehow because Negan let’s out a satisfied hum and reaches to pull your panties down so you can step out of both at the same time.

Stark naked now you’re all too aware of just how exposed you are and just how close his face is to your nether region. In different circumstances you would be more than willing to push those invisible boundaries to see what might happen but you knew yourself well enough to know it wasn’t a good idea right now. He did look positively sinful though. Unable to help yourself you press your thighs together and of course Negan notices.

With a sigh, Negan gathers up your dirty clothes and eases to his feet smiling softly. “There’s always next time sugar. It’s nice to know you’ve been thinking about it though.”

His added afterthought makes you frown. You thought it would be obvious that he had been on your mind especially after the display you had made of yourself for him. It was hard not to think of it all really. You weren’t about to tell him anytime soon but nothing you had done to yourself since had felt half as good as the day he had watched you unravel and beg for him. “Of course I have.”

Negan scoffs bitterly. Turning from you to dump the clothes in the hamper. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The beginnings of what could have been a good mood instantly vanish as a scowl takes over your features. What the fuck did he expect? You were pretty sure you had made it clear you weren’t about to compromise your place amongst the saviours for him. That should have spelled out to him that public declarations vying for his attention not to mention his dick were off the table. Did the fact that you had already gone as far as you had with him – the fact that you were currently standing in front of the man butt fucking naked for crying out loud – mean nothing?

Narrowing your eyes, a flare of anger comes over you. Without even considering the consequences you open your mouth with a scathing tone. “Oh I’m so very sorry Negan. I’ll remember to swoon and faint every time you walk into the god damn room from now on – make it real fucking easy for you to tell.”

Negan’s nostrils flare, not one for being spoken to like that. It sometimes amused you how he could always give it out but whenever it came to taking it he spat out his dummy. Today however, you didn’t give a shit. He was out of line and you didn’t have enough fucks left to give to cater to his ego – and you weren’t done yet either.

Looking him square in the eye you launch into another tirade. “I get that you’re so used to having multiple women waiting on your beck and call who you can fuck or do whatever the fuck you want with so maybe you didn’t manage to catch on but what happened the other week was a pretty big fucking deal for me. So don’t go acting all butt hurt just because I’m not fucking grovelling for your attention. You’ve already had a metric fuck ton of mine.”

So much for not getting into an argument. The silence surrounding you both in the aftermath of your outburst feels deafening and you struggle to hold your composure feeling far to vulnerable and strung out to stay still.

A different kind of fear begins to trickle through your mind as you process exactly what you just said and exactly who you just said it to. Without a doubt you meant every word but Negan commanded a certain amount of respect and you couldn’t say for sure exactly where your boundary was. He wouldn’t hurt you, you knew that for a fact but it didn’t stop you from worrying that maybe you had gone too far this time. Your horrid mood wasn’t completely his fault after all.

Negan breaks the silence with a huff, shaking his head as he narrows his gaze on you. “Don’t be a bitch for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t fucking suit you.”

At his anti climatic reaction, you mirror his expression. You’re not sure exactly what he’s playing at but you really can’t muster up the mental capacity to deal to his mood swings too - your own were difficult enough. “I’m not in the mood for games Negan.”

Negan considers you for a moment before deciding on a reply, pressing his lips together in frustration. “What the fuck happened out there huh?”

The question hangs in the air and as soon as you open your mouth to tell him exactly what happened you close it again. The words vanish from your mind as the white noise of fear, death and blood distract your train of thought. There were so many of them. It was so loud. So much blood.

“Stay here.”

You register Negan leaving the room, the door still slightly ajar and you find yourself immediately wishing he hadn’t left. Was he mad? Was he coming back? He wouldn’t have just left you to stay in his bathroom that was for sure so you reason that he can’t be that mad. Jesus you need to get a grip.

You manage to compose yourself in the short amount of time it takes Negan to return. Without a word he all but thrusts a pile of fabric into your hands, scowling. Oh that’s right. You were mad at him.

“Take a fucking shower. Whatever you do don’t pass out. Yell if you need me I’ll just be outside.” He doesn’t wait for you to reply turning on his heel and marching out of the small room. The door slams shut behind him and you can’t help but think how absolutely ridiculous he’s being.

‘I’ll manage.” You grumble out loud, out of spite more than anything.

Looking down at the fabric in your hand you realise Negan had given you a change of clothes to wear. For a sickening moment you think he’s completely lost it and left you a set of old prisoner’s clothes but on closer inspection you realise that these clothes belong to Negan himself.

You’ve never seen him dressed in anything other than his signature jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket combination but with the soft grey sweatpants in your hand you can’t help but imagine some scenario of him indulging in comfort on a rainy day. It’s ridiculous you know but it diffuses the anger that had been steadily building in your stomach and you realise that maybe that isn’t the only thing that is ridiculous about the whole thing.

Stepping into the tub, you draw the duck patterned curtain around you and begin to systematically scrub every ounce of blood and grime from your body, helping yourself to Negan’s shampoo as you go. You supposed that letting your mind go blank would be the hardest thing to do after today but focusing on the trivial tasks at hand allows you to do exactly that. By the time you step out onto the cool floor and reach for the towel on the counter, you feel lighter in more ways than one.

You ignore the way your head throbs as you quickly towel dry your skin before pulling the sweatpants over your legs and pulling the drawstring until it rests comfortably around your waist. It’s a little long in the leg so you easily roll the cuffs up, deciding that you need to catch Negan wearing these at some point in the future, for science. Forgoing your bra, because honestly if it wasn’t one of the last in your size you would gladly burn it rather than try to clean it, you pull his black t-shirt over your head and start to towel dry your hair, psyching yourself up to face the man waiting for you behind the door.

You were hoping that he wasn’t still mad at you. Quite frankly you were more than ready to sleep the rest of the week away if you could get away with it. Another argument was the last thing you wanted to get into. Besides, even though he was an asshole about it, he still seemed to have been genuinely worried.

The last of the adrenaline seemed to have washed away in the shower, leaving you feeling empty and heavy. With another sigh, you pull open the door and hesitantly make your way through the threshold.

Having probably heard the door open, you find Negan standing by his desk watching you carefully. It was practically impossible to decipher his mood from that alone so you decide to offer an olive branch and be the bigger person. “I’m sorry for snapping. But it- I was just-“

Your explanation gets stuck in your mouth, words failing you as you try to express exactly how you feel. Cutting you off with a firm tone, much softer than before, he gestures to the chair beside him. “Come over here.”

Unable to help feeling like a chastised child, you nervously pad your way over the rug on the floor to him. Eventually meeting his gaze he gently takes your elbow and guides you to sit in the leather chair. Hopefully you could sleep soon.

Watching him in silence, you look on as Negan opens a small wooden box to reveal some kind of first aid kit. He breaks the silence as he takes out cotton swabs and another couple of bits. “Travis said you were the one who lobbed off Jim’s arm.”

For a moment you just blink at the man. How did he know that? You were absolutely certain that Travis hadn’t mentioned it earlier. Unless it was when you were in the shower? How long were you in there for?

Your eyes land on the radio sitting on the desk beside you and suddenly it all makes sense. There’s no sense in denying it and clearly you weren’t allowed to ignore it so instead you reply in a cautious huff of breath. “Yeah.”

“You did the right thing.” He states it so matter-of-factly that he might has well have been passing comment on the weather rather than the fact that a man died. He gently dabs some antiseptic concoction on your cut and you forget to supress the hiss of pain that follows. He carries on regardless determined to clean out your cut.

“But he died.” It wasn’t so obvious to you. If you hadn’t have cut his arm off then he would still be alive. Not for long sure but at least he would have gotten to spend his last moments doing something other than screaming in agony.

Negan shrugs, sizing up a couple if different band aids before deciding on one to use. “He would have died anyway.”

You shake your head lightly unconvinced. It wasn’t the point. He didn’t get it.

Negan sighs, having finished whatever he had been doing to your head and cleans up the used and discarded bits from the table before putting the box away. Maybe he senses it’s a lost cause but he draws himself up and changes the subject. “I need to go over some paperwork. You, are gonna sit right here.”

Taking you gently by the elbow he firmly guides you up out of the chair and swaps sides with you before inclining to the spot on the floor. It takes you a moment to realise that you did in fact hear him correctly before squawking indignantly. “What? I’m not sitting at your feet like a dog Negan.”

As though expecting your reaction, an amused smirk pulls at his lip, his eyebrow raised in a challenge. “Oh I’m sorry. Do you have somewhere else you’d rather fucking be?”

You gape at him for a moment. Yes was your immediate spiteful answer. You would much rather be in bed asleep. Sleeping felt like such a good idea but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to voice it. His unusual request had piqued your curiosity and if you were honest you didn’t really want to leave just yet. Something about his presence comforted you and given he wasn’t mad at you anymore you felt reluctant to rob yourself it just to prove a point.

Negan scoffs, taking your stunned silence as an answer. “Thought not. Now sit Fido.”

“Woof.” You pout, taking a seat on the threadbare rug beside the drawers of the desk.

Making himself comfortable in the chair beside you Negan barks a laugh. “Very fucking funny.”

You wait, watching Negan as he pulls a pair of glasses out of the drawer by your head and true to his word starts going through what looks like the outpost reports. The gently flicking of paper is the only noise in the room for a few long moments and while it isn’t an uncomfortable silence, you still feel the need to ask. “Why am I sitting on the floor?”

Negan pauses, pulling the glasses off his face and setting them down on the desk. He regards you for a moment, something softening in his expression before reaching out to take the tip of your chin in his fingers, stroking his thumb along your jaw gently. “Because princess you need a time out.”

Brows furrowing, you squint up at the man despite the way his touch warms you. It didn’t make any sense. “I thought you said I did the right thing?”

Negan smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and you wonder if it’s sadness or pity you see in his expression. “You did. Now shush.” He adds as an afterthought, returning back to his task.

His confirmation only managed to confuse you even more. If you did the right thing then – was this a punishment? Why would it be if you didn’t do anything wrong? God you were tired.  
  
You wondered if you could nap on the floor. Sure Negan would probably be telling dog jokes for the rest of the month at least but at this point you didn’t give a shit. You were so strung out that it wasn’t difficult for you to consider resting your head against Negan’s leg instead. It was right there after all and touching him felt so comforting before. Would he mind? Maybe you could doze off too.

You don’t worry yourself for long, taking the initiative you shuffle slightly over and gently wind your arm around his calf, hugging it before slowly slumping against his leg, resting your cheek against the top of his knee. For a moment as Negan stills, you wonder if maybe he didn’t want you to but as he drops a hand down and gently scratches against your scalp you let out a soft sigh of relief.

Half lidded, your gaze wanders along the patterns of the rug beneath you and along the creases and folds of his sweatpants. In your boredom you focus on your own breathing and slowly start to relax, forcing your muscles to unlock one by one as you slump further into his leg.

That is until you see it.

It’s only blood. You’ve spent more time covered in blood than you have clean at this point but the small amount under the corner of your nail, somehow missed by both you and Negan reminds you of exactly why you’re here - exactly who’s blood it is.

The sound of the shutter blocking your only exit was secondary to the snarl of a small army of roamers that seemed to pour in from the cracks in the walls. You’re still not entirely sure how you managed to escape, killing rotter after rotter seemed endless until you found yourself being dragged towards the fresh air.

It almost didn’t end the way it did. A few more yards and it would have been a different story, but the walker that lunged for you at the last second had other plans. There wasn’t many times in the past few years that you had genuinely thought you were going to die but today was most certainly one of them.

It would have been, if it hadn’t been for Jim. Knocking you out of harms way just in time left no time for the man to save himself. He yelped as the monster tried to knock him down, kicking it away before swiftly stabbing it in the head but the damage had been done. It was only after you had put enough distance between you and the dead that he revealed exactly what had happened.

You hardly had to deliberate it. He saved your life so you had to save his.

Cutting someone’s arm off was nothing like they had made it look in the horror movies. There were no clean cuts or smooth follow through. Bringing your machete down against his arm hardly made a dent in the scheme of it all. You had wanted to stop then, to run and cry and beg him for forgiveness but your decision had been made and you forced yourself to carry on.

You knew you would never forget the look of sickening horror on their faces, the blood curdling scream that erupted from Jim as you hacked away at his arm. Over and over. God it never seemed to end. There was so much blood.

Maybe it was a bad call.

Maybe Carson could have done something else.

You should have probably used a belt. Or asked the guy first at least. Something.

Anything.

Maybe he would still be alive.

  
“It’s okay honey.”

His voice brings you out of your own thoughts and you’re surprised to find your breath catching in your throat and hot tears tracking down your face. God it was so fucked up. It wasn’t for the first time but you wished the world could go back to the way it was where you could just worry about getting the rent paid on time instead of getting mixed up in the ethics of cutting someone’s arm off.

You hastily unwind yourself from Negan’s leg to scrub the tears away from your face, trying to suck in a breath to steady yourself with. You needed to get a grip.

Smoothing his hand over your shoulder blade he gently coaxes you up into his arms. “C’mere kitten.”

This wasn’t how you wanted the next time you sat in his lap to go either but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to take the support he was so willingly offering you. Slipping up onto his lap he gently rearranges your legs as you bury your face against the crook of his neck, ignoring an irritated throb from the graze on your head.

A deep breath. Then another. You needed to calm down. He smelled good. How did he always manage to smell good? You focused on it to try and distract your own mind and chase away the crushing guilt.

Negan however had a different idea. Pulling you closer against him he methodically began to rub the lines of your back with a smooth palm. “Just let go darlin’ I got you.”

Like a damn breaking inside of you an uncontrollable surge of grief overwhelmed your mind and with Negan holding the pieces of you together you sobbed against him.

It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t.

God you were so afraid.

He died saving your life.

Your friend was dead because of you and maybe you could have stopped it from happening.

You cling to him, mortified somewhere in the back of your mind at the state you’re in but the need for the comfort and safety that was Negan outweighed it all. If he was at all bothered by it he didn’t show it in the slightest. He keeps a tight hold on you, stroking along your back as he lightly rocks you back and forth, letting you get everything out. It’s cathartic in a way.

He stays like that with you for as long as it takes your crying to subside and the tremor in your frame to ease. Pulling in steadying breaths you start to calm down and come back to reality. It strikes you as odd just how much you needed that just as it dawns on you that Negan knew you needed it too. No one had ever done anything like that for you before and it makes you swell with admiration for the man. He really did care.

Pushing away from him lightly you lean back grimacing at the wet patch on his shirt but you know he doesn’t care about that given the soft smile on his face. You’re not sure how to let him know that you know he knew and that you’re grateful – even thinking it is confusing enough after all but in the end you decide to lighten the mood a little.

With a light huff and a small grin, you tease him. “Now I’m a cat? C’mon dude. Make up your mind.”

His face splitting into a wide smile, Negan ruffles your hair playfully. “Always such a smart ass.”

You sniff, still recovering but manage to scrunch your nose at him in good humour. “You love it when I sass you.”

“Indeed I fucking do butternut.” His voice drops to something more intimate and as he swipes his thumbs underneath your eyes you can’t help but lean into his touch.

Both of you revel in the quiet moment until Negan draws a breath clearly having something to say. “You listening?”

He waits until you nod before beginning, his tone making you avoid interrupting. “You did the right thing. Sure it sucks that he fucking died. But you gave him a chance. A good one. It isn’t your fault alright? There’s a million maybes and what if’s but the fact is you did something that could have saved his life instead of waiting around for him to keel over anyway. He would be fucking grateful. And shit, now that I know there are still active traps out there I can make sure we’re more fucking careful so this shit doesn’t happen again. You want to blame someone for this today you blame those dead fucking mongrels who set the traps in the first place. Not yourself. You did the right thing.”

You listen with furrowed brow, turning yourself to rest your head against his chest. Negan’s arms circle around you again and with a shuddering sigh you let his words sink in. It just wasn’t fair.

“It was just awful.” You decide to say, hearing the slight waver in your voice. Awful was an understatement.

“You’re safe now alright? It’s okay butternut.”

Fighting against your own stubborn pride, you let him make you feel safe and warm inside. It wasn’t okay really but what else could you do about it? You couldn’t bring him back now. At least you had tried right? For a long while you just sink into his warm embrace but eventually you feel yourself start to droop and you know it’s time to go.

Sitting up again Negan’s hands fall to your hips. The words get stuck in your mouth again but you power through your nerves anyway. “Thank you. For helping me. I mean – I could have dealt with this on my own – you didn’t have to – y’know – but thanks.”

Huffing a laugh, Negan raises a sceptical eyebrow at you. “You think I don’t know that I didn’t have to? Honey I didn’t bring you up here because I didn’t think you could cope without me or some shit. You’re a motherfucking badass – I know that better than anyone. You don’t need me. Hell, most of the time I don’t think you even want me.”

You could tell by the way his voice drops to a low mumble that he didn’t really mean to say that last part. He pauses frowning at something before continuing, guarded, almost nervous.

“I did it because I wanted to fucking help you. I did it because I didn’t want you to have to deal with it alone. I did it because all anyone fucking told me was that some fucker got bit and the first thing I see is you fucking drenched in blood and I fucking thought – I though I was going to fucking lose you.”

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and before he can pull away you gently catch his wrist holding him in place and lean intro his touch. If he really did mean that, and you couldn't fathom a reason why he would have said it otherwise, then it would explain why he was being so stubborn and persistent. It explained a lot actually. You realise it was no small thing for him to tell you that either, hopefully conveying the sentiment of how much you appreciate it in your expression.

He smiles, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “I also did it because you were acting like such a stubborn bitch when I know how much of a good girl you can be for me.”

Just like that the mood shifts again to something a lot less innocent. If you weren’t so tired you would totally try something. You wanted this man. An undercurrent of lust washes over you and you find yourself wishing the circumstances were different. Maybe next time.

Stroking your thumb over the bare skin of his wrist you try again to make amends for earlier. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

Negan nods. “I know you are it’s okay princess. As it happens you were right about a couple of things though.”

You sit a little straighter then out of curiosity. “Oh?”

He drops his hand and draws in a breath to explain. “I owe you an apology too doll. It would seem that I’ve made some pretty fucking big assumptions about you and – well it isn’t fair. I want you to know that I’m man enough to know when I fuck up. So I’m sorry.”

He’s talking of course about that offhanded comment that got you so riled up. You had thought that maybe you had overreacted but there was a lot of truth to his words. He had asked you to be a wife at one point, it makes sense to you that he expected you to behave a certain way. Not that that was your problem really. In fact, if it wasn’t for your rapidly evolving feelings that seemed to be erupting for the man you know you would tell him exactly where he could shove those ideas. He was right to apologise.

But does that mean you’re not good enough? You didn’t want to be a wife but there was something nagging at you that wondered if you had disappointed him somehow. It would be easier to be unapologetic about it all but your insecurities get the better of you. “I guess you have some expectations when it comes to certain women. So it makes sense that when I don’t meet them-“

He cuts you off with a resolute shake of his head, concern etching his features. “-Fuck no. Sweetheart please don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to them. That was my mistake.”

“Well they are your wives.” You shrug, dropping your gaze into your lap. It’s not as though those women were some unobtainable goal. You didn’t even know them in all honesty to pass comment. It was that subtle part of you that wanted to please him that made it difficult for you not to wonder how you measured up to them.

He covers your hand with one of his own. Making you look up to see the sincerity in his expression. “You’re nothing like them butternut. I wouldn’t fucking like you nearly as much if you were trust me. I’m just glad you called me out on it.”

That was a pretty loaded statement to make, one you were sure you would spend a while dissecting later but for now, you just let his reassurance comfort you and reaffirm that you shouldn’t change who you are, even if Negan didn’t like it. Damn you needed a nap.

Not wanting the conversation to get too serious – or more serious than it already had, you squeeze his hand lightly and smirk. “You realise you just said sorry, please and told me you were glad I cussed you out all in one conversation?”

Negan snorts with laughter. “Must be coming down with something.

You chuckle, both knowing that you really ought to go but neither one of you willing to call it quits just yet. It’s your turn to break the comfortable silence when you recall something Negan had said in his rather uncharacteristic outburst.

“I do y’know.”

“What?” With the smile still lingering on his face Negan looks puzzled.

You choose your words carefully, speaking slowly so they don’t get caught in your mouth. “You said before that you didn’t know if I even want you. I just wanted to let you know that I do. Want you that is.”

Slowly, Negan lights up into one of those proud and private smiles that makes you feel a sense of accomplishment. He picks your hand up, turning it to softly kiss your palm in what is somehow the most intimate thing he’s done to date. His drawl is light and playful as he teases you. “Shit princess that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

With a roll of your eyes you gently shove at his chest. “You’re such a drama queen.”

“Well I must be doing something right because if I heard correctly you just said that you fucking want me.” He boops your nose for added effect making you giggle.

“Can I kiss you?” The words rush out of your mouth in a hushed whisper, surprising even yourself. He catches it though, eyebrows raising lightly in surprise. Wetting his lips as though to start on some new line of teasing or taunting he pauses for a moment just looking at you. Time seems to slow down when he just nods softly instead, his persona as steady and comfortable as ever.

Your stomach churns pleasurably in anticipation. How long have you fantasised about touching him the way that you want to? Sliding one palm around his neck and the other slowly up his chest you try not to rush yourself as arousal begins to build somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

Negan on the other hand seems content to let you go at your own pace, curious to see what you might do. His eyes never stray from you, not missing the way you swallow thickly or the quirk of your lip in a nervous grin. His grip slowly tightens on your hip pulling you in closer as your eyes flutter shut and you lean up to meet him.

A small whimper of relief escapes you as you press your lips against his. For some reason you just knew he’d be good at this and he doesn’t disappoint. With a low groan of his own that does a whole bunch of things to your insides, he pulls you in closer by the small of your back, effortlessly rearranging you to straddle his lap all whilst taking control and moving his mouth against yours in a way that you can only describe as full of raw desire.

Your stomach flips of its own accord, your fingers moving up to rake against his scalp pulling Negan closer and your body presses flush against him flooded with a sudden warmth that takes your breath away. Want and need take over and all pretence is thrown aside as you moan into his mouth, keeping up with Negan’s enthusiasm.

Apparently that’s Negan cue to pull away from you, gently holding you in place when you try to follow him in a lust filled daze. Your brow furrows as you blink at the man wondering why he stopped. Why on earth would he stop? Wasn’t this what you both wanted?

With an appreciative sigh Negan brushes his thumb against your lip, answering your unspoken question with a nod towards your head. “You need to get that bump checked out butternut.”

“Tis but a scratch.” You protest, already feeling the desire beginning to give way to exhaustion. He was right of course but you didn’t want to stop.

With a dejected grumble you slump, rest your head on his shoulder “Fine.”

Negan snorts a laugh, kissing the top of your head. “You’re cute when you’re frustrated kitten.”

“Uh huh.” You grumble about ready to cuss him out.

“Breathe doll face.”

Taking in a deep, shaky breath you try to calm your hormone-addled nerves, lightly fisting the fabric of his t-shirt. If the deep chuckle coming from the man is anything to go by he seems quite amused by the whole thing. Asshole.

“Good girl.” Tapping your thigh Negan motions for you to stand up, helping you up. You’re not sure if it’s the excitement or the exhaustion or the way you feel dizzy all of a sudden but your stiff and slightly unsteady on your feet at first. Probably another telling sign that it’s not a good time to be over exerting yourself.

You run your fingers through your damp hair not being able to bring yourself to feel disappointed – especially with the way Negan looks at you with pride and admiration, like you’re something precious.

Reaching out to squeeze your hand one final time Negan gives you your marching orders, the dismissal clear from his tone. “Now you’re gonna go and walk that sweet Lil ass to Doc Carson and get checked out then you’re gonna get to bed and have a good long nap. Don’t worry about work for the rest of the week I’ll take care of it okay?”

A full week? For a bump on the head he was being more than generous but then again maybe he was bringing other factors into consideration. With a grin you nod in acknowledgement before turning to go. It occurs to you that you should probably put on some shoes but you don’t feel like salvaging the pair in the bathroom just yet and besides, you have another in your room. The walk to the good doctor isn’t too far anyway. “Thanks Negan.”

“Feel free to stop by anytime butternut.” He adds as you reach the door, leaving an opening for a ‘next time’ wide open once again.

Glancing behind you to see him still sitting in the chair, you nod silently, the smile still evident on your face. It lingers all the way to Carson’s office and warms your insides long after too. For a day filled with horror and pain, you were glad that Negan had been there to keep you company through the aftermath.

 

 

 

 


End file.
